


nothing to prove

by andibeth82



Category: Lost
Genre: 1970s, Angst, Drabble Collection, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/pseuds/andibeth82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time in her life, she’s not losing. And she has no idea how to deal with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing to prove

**Author's Note:**

> 5 ficlets/drabbles set in early DHARMA, focusing on different moments of Juliet and James' life together.

**Implications**  
  
  
It gets her when she least expects it, standing in the kitchen.  
  
 _I’ll go get the drinks_ , she said, and the smile had been real (or so she had thought.)  
  
Her fingers trace the side of the glass while she holds back tears. One year. One year and three months. And still...  
  
 _Don’t you go forgetting about me while you’re off making history, Jules._  
  
A laugh. A smirk.  
  
 _Don’t be ridiculous. How could I ever forget my sister?_  
  
Palms press into burning eyes and she takes a breath. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him (she’s already cried once in the bathroom, told him that the residual redness was from faulty make-up she had ordered.)  
  
And then a hand on her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts.  
  
“Hey, slowpoke. Boys are gettin’ rowdy.”  
  
She turns and his face is there, blonde hair falling over green eyes with hands crossed over his chest, crinkles lining his forehead, dimples showing. Standing too close, as always.  
  
The glass drops and she sees the moments of her life reflected in its scattered pieces.  
  
+  
  
 **Waiting Game**  
  
  
 _She wants the blue shirt, the one with the horse on it. She loves horses. But Rachel takes it off the rack for herself before she can speak._  
  
“You can’t have it. Not until your birthday, mom said.”  
  
 _“It’s not your birthday yet, either.”_  
  
 _“It is in three months, dummy.” She skips down the aisle of the department store, Juliet trailing behind while twisting strands of long blonde hair between her fingers (a nervous habit, she often gets yelled at.)_  
  
 _“Why does she always get what she wants?”_  
  
 _“She doesn’t always get what she wants, Juliet.” A mom’s eyes in the rear view mirror, warily watching two squabbling daughters on the drive home._  
  
  
“You can’t have it. Not until your birthday.”  
  
She looks up from where she’s been eyeing the crumb cake, blue eyes confused. “How did you know about my birthday?”  
  
They’ve never talked about birthdays, she only knows his from his file and James shrugs. “Had a hunch. What, you upset?”  
  
Mouth in a thin line to suppress any emotion. “Why would I be upset?”  
  
She obediently re-wraps the cake, but not before picking off a small piece of topping, letting the outer edges of her mouth close around her fingers.  
  
It tastes like the past, but she’ll never tell him.  
  
+  
  
 **My Mistake**  
  
  
The first night, she messes up and goes to her house instead.  
  
Her clothes. Her diningware. Her toiletries. All spread out, intermingling with his things as if she’s moving in.  
  
She forgets sometimes that she did.  
  
“Need me to draw a map?” Guilty eyes meet smirking ones as she climbs up the porch, placing hands on the railing.  
  
“I just need to get used to things. I’ll be fine.”  
  
 _Smile like you’ve got nothing to prove._  
  
She knows she can’t fool him. But he doesn’t say anything, so she lets it go, for now.  
  
  
 _“I don’t want to move. I like it here.” She wants sympathy, but instead gets a sigh and a sad smile._  
  
“You’re only going to be leaving for a little while. Grandma’s going to take care of you, just until daddy and I can figure things out. And then you can come back.”  
  
 _“It won’t be the same. Not without daddy.” She bites her lip, tasting blood and when her mother doesn’t answer she knows she’s more right than wrong._  
  
 _She’s been right her whole life on too many things, and she hates it._  
  
+  
  
 **Intensities**  
  
  
Feet push against familiar ground, she can’t see where she’s going through blurred vision but it doesn’t matter, she knows her path by heart. Through the barracks, around the motor pool garage, to her solace of the oak tree. Hands press against coarse bark, sharp pain digging into her skin.  
  
It’s all too much. It’s all too soon.  
  
  
 _“I win. Again.” A fist pump of triumph, and Juliet pouts._  
  
“I want to play something else. You always win this game.” She pushes her face into a scowl as her sister sighs.  
  
 _“Because I’m good at it.” Rachel’s voice is matter-of-fact, setting up pieces on a board and handing Juliet a pair of dice. She rolls her tongue between her teeth, as if trying to decide if what she's going to say is a good idea._  
  
“You can go first this time.”  
  
 _Small fingers take the die and she closes her eyes, makes a wish. Rolls. Lucky 7._  
  
 _It doesn’t matter that Rachel has given her the advantage. Somehow, she’ll still lose._  
  
  
It had been normal, a smile shared between them. A laugh at a stupid joke at her expense and then all of a sudden his voice by her ear as she reached for the salt shaker.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud; she knows that, she had seen it in his face. It doesn’t help. Hands pick at the ground, digging up dirt and moss, somehow tearing apart the foundation of the one thing that’s ever felt right is a cathartic way for her to release pain.  
  
For the first time in her life, she’s not losing. And she has no idea how to deal with that.  
  
+  
  
 **Sync**  
  
  
Sunlight streams through the open blinds and her eyes open to comfort, legs wrapped around his, face pressed into his back. She’s never woken up this way but it feels familiar and she likes it.  
  
She speaks before she can stop herself, voice barely audible in the silence of the bedroom.  
  
“I don’t want to get up.”  
  
A smile, a laugh that she feels vibrate inside his skin and then he rolls over until their foreheads touch, green closing in on blue. Arms that wrap around her body, tight and warm and protective.  
  
“Then don’t. We ain’t got nowhere to be today.”  
  
  
 _She lies in bed with her legs stretched out (it’s summer in Miami, too hot for covers) and looks over when the bed shifts._  
  
“You know, mom would laugh right now if she saw us.”  
  
 _Juliet grins. “Two grown women sleeping together? There are worse crimes. Besides, it’s our last night before I go away…and I want to make sure you’re okay.”_  
  
 _“You worry too much, little sister.” A palm against her face, a reassuring smile she struggles to implant in her memory. “You worked your whole life for this opportunity; you can’t worry about someone like me holding you back.”_  
  
 _“You could never hold me back.”_  
  
 _She wants to sleep, she should sleep, but it’s too bright. Her eyes stare out at the lights of the city and she wonders what would happen if one day the entire world went dark._  
  
 _“What if I forget you?”_  
  
 _Hands find each other under the covers, squeezing gently._  
  
 _“Come on, Jules. You’re only going to be gone six months. You’re never going to forget me.”_  
  
  
His fingers are moving slightly, idly stroking the curve of her arm as it curls around his body and it’s strange, this thing between them (she’s not sure what it is, lust or love, at what point do you draw the line?)  
  
He takes a hand to her hair, brushing a loose strand from her forehead. Fingers linger longer than necessary against her cheek, a gentle and almost hesitant touch. She pillows her head onto his chest, closing her eyes.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
Chest constricting, words caught in her throat, a rising feeling of uncertainty at his question. She listens to his heart beating strong and fast against her ear. Slows her breathing so that they’re in sync. In and out. Up and down.  
  
Silence. Repeat.  
  
Comfort she would have never predicted, not in a million years.  
  
When she speaks, it’s not a lie.  
  
“Yeah. I’m okay."


End file.
